The Evenstar Expedition
by ElvenWildmage
Summary: People have been saying how Arwen stole the glory from Glorfindel. Here's her side of the story.
1. Plan

Disclaimer: Yep. Own Nothing. Okay, on with the story.  
  
Coming back from a walk around Imladris, Arwen Evenstar passed her father's study and heard something odd. She crept to the door and peered inside.  
  
Elrond Half-Elven was pacing inside, his brows knit together in worry. He muttered faintly to himself. Arwen strained to hear, "... should have been here by... what could have happened..."   
  
This was bad. Elrond's face usually never showed any serious emotion and he was known for the gift of foresight. How come he couldn't See what he was worrying about?  
  
Arwen decided to help her father. She strode into the room. "Father, what's wrong?" she asked.  
  
"Bring me Glorfindel," was all he said.   
  
She trotted back into the hall and headed to where she thought Glorfindel was. ::Glorfindel. One of the praised warriors of the realm:: Arwen thought disgustedly. He was nice enough, but he bragged too much.  
  
She found him talking to some other elves in the courtyard where leaves were changing color and falling. "Lord Elrond wishes to speak with you," Arwen told him politely.  
  
Glorfindel excused himself from his onlookers and followed Arwen as she walked back to the study. "You remember Asfaloth?" He declared.  
  
"Your prized steed? Of course," Arwen retorted.  
  
"I found him some tack that makes him seem even more radiant on the battlefield!" he said proudly. Arwen turned her head away and rolled her eyes.  
  
They walked into the study and bowed to Elrond. The lord of Imladris got to the point. "Aragorn has gone missing," he announced. "With him were people of great importance. Glorfindel, find them and bring them back to Rivendell." The blonde elf nodded.  
  
Arwen's heart leapt. Aragorn. She hadn't seen him in a long time. This could be the chance to help him.  
  
"Father, let me help him. Let me find Aragorn," she said.  
  
Elrond frowned. "This is not your concern," he told her sternly. "Glorfindel is the best rider we have."  
  
"I can ride just as fast as he can!" Arwen argued. "You haven't seen me! I-"  
  
"Arwen," he growled, making her look down at the floor. Elrond nodded to Glorfindel. "You may go." Glorfindel walked briskly out of the room. Arwen ran after him before her father could say anything else.  
  
She caught up with the elf in the hall. "Please let me go instead," she pleaded. "I'll do your chores if you have any for a week!"  
  
Glorfindel glared at her. "You heard what Lord Elrond said," he reminded her. "Why is this so important to you?"  
  
"That's not your concern," she said. "I want to help them, I HATE feeling useless!"  
  
He looked her straight in the face. "This is my errand," he hissed. "Just because Lord Elrond's daughter doesn't mean you can have your way all the time. This isn't a game, you can't decide to quit in the middle of it. This is serious. Leave these things to the ones who can handle it." With that, he walked away.  
  
Arwen stared after him, feeling white-hot fury. Not a game... those who can handle it? Who did he think she was? A couple thousand years meant nothing to him? ::That does it:: Arwen thought outraged. She turned and sprinted to her room.  
  
She didn't throw herself down on her bed and cry. That would have been foolish. In the time it took her to get to her room, she had thought up a plan so crazy it just might work.  
  
Arwen dressed in a dark green riding dress and sturdy boots. She tied her hair out of her face, grabbed her bow and quiver and left the room. The elf ran to a pantry and stuffed a saddlebag full of lembas, herbs, and other useful supplies for traveling. She went back into a hall, and thought about an idea. Approving that, she walked quickly to her father study.  
  
The room was empty. Carefully, she took her sword, Hadhafang, down from the wall, rubbed the dust off, and clipped the sheath to her belt. Normally it was only used for decoration, but she could see it could come in handy later. Sadly Arwen thought of her poor fencing abilities. ::If worse comes to worse, I could take it out and point it menacingly at my offenders:: she thought determinedly. ::That'll work.::  
  
Ready to go, Arwen snuck quietly to the stables. There were few people in it at this hour. She looked down one row of horses after another, searching for a suitable mount. About to choose a bay mare, a memory came back to her. "Asfaloth could travel for DAYS without tiring," Glorfindel had boasted once. "He really is the perfect horse." She grinned.  
  
Arwen saddled Asfaloth quickly with the new tack, choking back giggles. Glorfindel would kill her, she knew that, but this opportunity was too great to pass up. Finding a good sized scrap of parchment, she scribbled:  
  
Don't worry, your prized horse is in good hands.  
Don't bother finding Aragorn and the others.  
I'll have done that for you already.  
  
Smirking, she used an arrow to attach it to a post. She did this by hand. As poor as her fencing skills were, her archery skills were exceptional, but she didn't want to risk hitting the horses.  
  
Leading the horse out of the stable, Arwen saw a group of elves coming towards the stable. The elf quickly mounted Asfaloth and cantered into the forest, leaving Imladris behind. 


	2. Search and Rescue

I'm sooo sorry for the long delay. I have many excuses in my pocket right now, let's see. *pulls out tiny strips of paper* Never mind, mostly homework and writer's block. Please forgive me. :( To make it up to you, here's a *cough* rather long chapter. Oh, before I forget, I want to thank you for the reviews. :D I was very happy!  
  
***  
  
It was cold, wet, and dark on Arwen's second day of searching. To those who weren't familiar with the elves, she appeared to be a weary rider, on a horse that seemed to go by itself. In reality, she and Asfaloth were catching an hour of sleep while still mobile. The horse's senses were amazingly sharp, which kept them from banging into obstacles.  
  
The day before, Arwen had looked for anything that moved, or made a sound. That was when she saw the Nazgul skulking through the forest. She almost screamed when one came out of seemingly nowhere. Luckily, they hadn't noticed her, and she was able to get silently out of reach.   
  
A drop of cold water fell on the elf's head. She shot straight up and peered through the darkness. Asfaloth shook his head and swiveled his ears, listening. Finding nothing, they trotted ahead.  
  
A mile went by quickly. Arwen stopped and got off to stretch. "Maybe they were right," Arwen confided to her charge, stroking his head. "Perhaps I should have stayed home." The horse butted the elf with his nose.   
  
Arwen put on the thin gloves she had stuck in her belt. She fed Asfaloth a handful of oats she had in a saddlebag. Suddenly, they both heard a noise and looked around. It was very quiet, but they faintly heard someone walking through shrubbery.  
  
The elf drew her sword and walked towards the sound. She saw a rascally looking man stooping over a patch of Athelas plant. She grinned. She knew exactly who it was.  
  
She snuck over and put her sword against his throat. "What's this?" she teased as Aragorn looked up cautiously. "A ranger, caught off his guard?"  
  
He smiled, but seemed sad. "Hello, Arwen," he said. "I wasn't expecting you. I'm sorry, but I have to hurry. One of the hobbits is hurt."  
  
Arwen guessed that was the cause of the delay. "Let me see him," she said. "I might be able to help."  
  
Arwen and Asfaloth followed Aragorn on foot. He led them to a dark glade in the forest. Three monstrous trolls stood menacingly under the trees. As they approached, they looked grayer and cracked, and the elf could see they were stone.   
  
A fire was crackling in the middle of the clearing, and four hobbits gathered by it. One looked extremely pale, and the others were worried.  
  
"But harder than stone is the flesh and bone," the pale one recited weakly. "Of a troll that sits in the hills alone. As well as... as... Sam, how'd it go again?"   
  
"Never mind, Mr. Frodo," said one of the other hobbits. "It was good."  
  
They looked up as Aragorn and Arwen entered the clearing. Aragorn introduced Arwen to the hobbits. "She's from the House of Elrond."  
  
"We were worried about you," she told them kindly. They looked worn and tired, even more than what she was feeling.  
  
Aragorn knelt by Frodo and placed chewed up Athelas on an ugly looking wound on the hobbits shoulder. Frodo gasped at the pain.   
  
"He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," Aragorn explained. "He's slowly fading into the shadow world."   
  
"Don't say that!" Sam said, frightened. "He'll be alright, you'll see."  
  
"My father will be able to heal him," Arwen said. "I can take him to Rivendell faster than the wind. He ::will:: be alright."  
  
"Wait!" Frodo objected. "I can't leave my friends in danger! There are ringwraiths out there!"   
  
Aragorn smiled. "We'll be right behind you. It's more important that you get healed. So," he said looking around. "We're all agreed. Frodo goes with Arwen and we follow on foot."   
  
He picked Frodo up and put him on Asfaloth. Arwen could see how weak he was getting, and promised herself that she would get him to her father in plenty of time.  
  
Arwen mounted the horse. Suddenly, a scream, not human and not animal, pierced the air.   
  
"Ringwraiths!" a hobbit exclaimed.  
  
"They're coming this way," Arwen said.   
  
"Go now!" Aragorn said. Arwen hesitated. Aragorn slapped the horse's flank and shouted "Noro lim!"   
  
Asfaloth leaped forward and dove into the trees. Arwen looked back, Aragorn shrinking rapidly into the distance and the trees whizzing past at an alarming rate. She faced forward, concentrating on keeping balance. Never before had she ever gone this fast, and the horse had a mind of his own.  
  
"So," she said, "how are you feeling, Frodo?"  
  
"Not too well," Frodo gasped.  
  
"Stay with me," Arwen told him. "We'll be there soon."  
  
She asked him many questions, things such as where he grew up and what he preferred to do in his spare time to keep him focused. Although they were personal, and she felt bad asking them, he gave long responses, which meant he knew what she was doing and followed along.   
  
As the morning gave way to afternoon, the trees slowly thinned out. Suddenly, a black horse leapt out from behind a tree, carrying a Black Rider. Arwen jumped and almost screamed. She went faster.  
  
Gradually, all nine wraiths were on her tail. Asfaloth gave no sign of slowing down. Frodo looked half asleep. One wraith reached for his face but Arwen pulled away and dove into another forest.   
  
She swerved around trees to throw them off. A long branch scratched her face, but she ignored it. Soon she reached the vast River Bruinen. Asfaloth cantered across the cold gray water and stopped on the other side.   
  
"Almost there," she said, tiredly. Frodo didn't move.  
  
The Nazgul gathered on the opposite side of the river. Their horses whinnied and stamped their hooves, objecting the notion of entering the water. Suddenly, a voice that seemed small and weak rang out.  
  
"Go back!" Frodo cried. "Go back to the Land of Mordor, and follow me no more!"  
  
The Riders laughed, a harsh grating sound. "Come back! Come back!" they replied mockingly. "To Mordor we will take you."  
  
"Go back," the hobbit whispered.  
  
"Give us the halfling, she-elf," one of the Riders called.  
  
Arwen drew her sword and Asfaloth reared. "If you want him, come and claim him," she challenged.   
  
It was the wrong thing to say. The Ringwraiths started to cross the water. Arwen began to chant. "Waters of the Misty Mountains," she cried in elvish. "Listen to the great word; Flow waters of Loudwater against the Nazgul!"  
  
The sound of rushing water filled the air. Massive white waves in the shape of stampeding horses roared down the valley, taking the Riders with them.   
  
Frodo, at the last of his strength, spoke up. "By Elbereth and Luthien the Fair, you shall have neither the Ring nor me!" He went limp.  
  
Arwen shook his shoulder. "Frodo? Frodo! Don't go!" she cried. "Not now!" As she held him, tears rolled down her face.  
  
::What grace has given me, let it pass to him. Let him be spared.::  
  
*** 


End file.
